Five days had passed since Neil found the elves' unmarked graves.
The air had grown heavier, the silence thicker. The world itself seemed changed. Stronger beasts roamed the wilds now, their presence threaded into the land like scars that refused to heal. Neil could feel them long before he saw them—ripples of intent in the air, dense pressure that whispered of muscle sinew and higher. They had begun appearing more frequently, forcing him to stay on the move, cautious and calculating.
But even among all the danger, his body had finally recovered. The lingering damage from the backlash had faded, and the energy in his veins no longer bucked or writhed against his will. Every movement came with grace again. His mind, sharpened by his time in the tomb, now worked in unison with his instincts. The scattered pieces of his growth had begun to form something coherent. Something solid.
Still, he hadn't found the elves.
That promise to Elara gnawed at him. He had said it would only be a few days, and now weeks had passed. They had buried their dead without him. Twenty of them, reduced to earth and silence.
He pressed deeper into the wilderness.
The trees here had begun to change. The colors were deeper, older, and the wind carried a scent like copper and moss. Neil found himself moving faster now, Core-enhanced leaps carrying him over gullies and across rocky terrain with ease. Hunting had returned to his routine—simple prey, nothing that pushed him—but it gave him sustenance, allowed him to keep moving without delay.
But what truly made the difference now was his sensing ability.
His breakthrough into Inner Luminarity had refined it beyond what he thought possible. Where once he could only feel flickers of energy in his immediate surroundings, now he could sense patterns, intent, resonance. He no longer scanned passively—he focused, filtered, calculated.
He began casting his awareness forward in tight arcs, tracing paths across the landscape like sonar. Energy trails, living currents. Dozens of them, most beastlike, moved through the land, but he sifted through them with growing precision.
Then, on the evening of the fifth day, he stopped.
A pulse.
It was faint. Weak. But it was familiar.
He crouched low atop a ridge, pressing his palm into the dirt and closing his eyes. The land unfolded beneath his senses like a topographic map layered with life signatures.
There. South by southeast. Five points. No more. Their energy signatures were different from beasts. Softer, fragmented… worn down.
He knew them.
"Elara," he breathed. "Calen."
And three others. Smaller. Young.
His heart didn't swell with emotion, not quite. He wasn't close to them. He didn't mourn the way family might. But they were his first allies in this world. His first conversation, his first shared fire, his first feeling of belonging. He owed them that. He had promised Elara he'd return. That had to mean something.
He stood, muscles tensing with purpose, and shot forward like an arrow loosed from a bow.
The wind sang in his ears as he vaulted over slopes and through thick brambles, darting between trees and slamming off cliff walls to redirect his speed. His technique had sharpened. Even the unstable second-air jumps he'd practiced before had grown more refined. He could vault, recover, and stabilize in midair now. Controlled chaos, but controlled nonetheless.
The deeper he traveled toward the signatures, the more he noticed the change.
The land no longer felt wild in a natural way. It felt… bruised. As though the world was preparing itself for something. Cracked trees. Scorched patches of ground. The faint smell of ozone in the wind, as if lightning had danced nearby.
The pressure in the sky had changed too. More than once, Neil had caught sight of silhouettes far above—beings moving with deliberate pacing, almost as though patrolling. They didn't descend. Didn't interfere. But they watched.
None of them felt like the gods who had approached the destroyed tomb. These were smaller. Closer to his level. But still a threat if provoked.
He moved lower, slowing his pace, breath controlled.
Then he saw it.
A small camp nestled against a stone outcropping, shielded by high ridges on three sides. Smoke rose faintly from a fire, and a few shapes huddled close together beneath makeshift canvas and salvaged cloth. They looked like shadows of their former selves.
Elara sat by the fire, her once-golden hair now dulled with dust and exhaustion. Calen lay not far, asleep or unconscious, a bandage darkened with old blood wrapped around his thigh.
Three smaller figures—young elves barely in their teens—moved around sluggishly. They looked gaunt. Hungry.
Neil stepped into the light of the fire.
The youngest girl turned first, eyes wide. Then Elara looked up. She froze.
Neil stood there, unsure of what to say.
"I said I'd be back," he finally offered.
Elara didn't speak. Her eyes flickered with something unreadable. Not joy. Not anger. Perhaps disbelief. Perhaps just weariness too heavy for words.
Calen stirred, trying to sit up with a groan.
Neil moved quickly, kneeling beside him. "Don't move too fast," he muttered.
"I figured… you were dead," Calen rasped.
"Not yet."
A pause hung in the air. Then Elara stood and crossed the distance slowly.
"You said a few days," she said.
"I know."
She didn't slap him. Didn't scream. She only looked at him, searching for something in his expression. Then she turned away and sat back down at the fire.
"I found something," Neil said. "A tomb. Hidden. It had energy like nothing I've ever felt before. I absorbed a lot of it. Too much."
Silence.
"You left us," Elara said quietly. "The others died."
"I didn't know. I thought you'd catch up."
"Some did." She looked toward the graves beyond the ridge. "Most didn't."
Neil lowered his head. "I'm sorry."
The fire cracked softly between them.
He didn't expect forgiveness. He didn't feel entitled to it. He had made a decision, and the consequences had followed. But he was here now. And they were still alive.
"I'll stay," he said. "At least for a while. Until you're stronger. Until we can move again."
No one answered, but no one objected either.
Neil sat down, finally allowing the fatigue to settle into his bones. He looked up at the stars above. In the far distance, beyond the hills and the deep woods, the green dome still shimmered faintly.
But it would have to wait.
He had made a promise.
And this time, he intended to keep it.